


What Happens In St. Petersburg

by Heavenly_Pearl



Series: What Happens In... [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Apologies, Arguing, Blow Job, Break Up, Break up sex, Cheating, Condoms, Crying, Crying in the Shower, Drama, Flowers, Forgiveness, Hickies, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, No contact, Post-Canon, Romance, Strong Language, Valentine's Day, mild violence, surprise visit, unenthusiastic consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenly_Pearl/pseuds/Heavenly_Pearl
Summary: After Yuri discovers that Otabek cheated on him while competing at Four Continents, he cuts off all contact with the exception of a single angry text on Valentine’s Day to end their long-distance relationship. A remorseful Otabek is desperate to apologize and try to reconcile, but if Yuri won’t talk to him through their usual means, he has just one option left: fly to St. Petersburg and beg for Yuri’s forgiveness in person.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Jean-Jacques Leroy, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: What Happens In... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161782
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE BEFORE READING: This is a sequel to “What Happens In Vegas”. It’s probably a good idea to read that story first before reading this one, but the basic gist of “what happened” (pun totally intended) is that a lonely Otabek and a depressed JJ stupidly slept together while in Las Vegas for Four Continents and Yuri discovered Otabek had cheated on him when he noticed a hickie on his chest during a video call the next morning. 
> 
> This story takes place...well, today, actually! (Valentine’s Day 2021) Or at least an alternate reality of today, since there’s no virus. So, Otabek is 22 and Yuri is 19, about to be 20 in a couple of weeks.
> 
> Though I’ve rated this fic Explicit, that rating is for the second part. This first half is PG-13 for the most part, aside from excessive foul language.

Six days.

Six days of absolute silence from Yuri, who rarely let more than a few daytime hours pass without sending him some sort of message, even if it was just a link to a funny cat video he found on YouTube or a photo of his lunch.

Otabek had tried contacting him through every method he could think of. Phone calls, video chats, text messages, DMs, e-mail… A couple of days ago, he got so desperate that he even wrote an actual pen-to-paper LETTER and paid a ridiculous amount of postage to have it sent through next-day airmail, but...nothing. His messages went unanswered, his phone calls ignored. If he hadn’t caught a brief glimpse of Yuri in the background of the training video Mila had posted the other day on Instagram, falling hard on some jump and shouting a string of profanities, Otabek might have seriously wondered if he had somehow vanished into thin air. He wasn’t posting on any of his usual social media accounts either.

Not that he blamed Yuri. After what had happened in Las Vegas, Otabek understood why he didn’t want to talk to him. He had betrayed Yuri in the worst possible way. There was probably little hope of salvaging their relationship, but if Yuri wouldn’t even talk to him, wouldn’t allow him the chance to properly apologize…

It had gotten to the point that Otabek was unable to fully concentrate on his training. Despite the fact that he usually turned his phone off during practice as not to be distracted, he found himself constantly skating over to the boards to check it, hoping against hope to see a new message from Yuri.

Of course, he never did.

“Okay, let’s run through your short again,” his coach Dimash said as Otabek pulled out of a wobbly camel spin. “I’m thinking we might change the entrance to the axel.”

Otabek held up a finger. “One minute.”

Hand on his hip, Dimash sighed and rubbed at his forehead, Otabek well aware that his usually patient and supportive coach was getting frustrated with his uncharacteristic lack of focus ever since he returned from Four Continents. With his win over a floundering, depressed JJ, Otabek was now seen asa favorite – or at the very least, a co-favorite with Yuri – to finally win his first World title, but that wasn’t going to happen unless he got serious about his training again. “Fine, but this is your last break. I’m confiscating that phone for the rest of practice.”

He frowned, skating over to the boards once again. The thought of relinquishing his phone did not thrill him, but at least there were only fifteen minutes left in his session; he could manage that long, he supposed. Otabek took a swig from his water bottle, then grabbed his phone from its perch on top of the barrier.

His heart jumped when he unlocked the screen and saw that, for once, he had a new text message. With his luck, it was probably just spam, but still his hands shook, nearly dropping his phone on the ice in his haste to open the message.

It was from Yuri.

His brief elation faded when Otabek read the contents of the short text: _Go to hell. You’re dead to me._

“Dammit!” He banged his fist against the top of the barrier, his voice echoing through the rink.

“Beka, everything okay over there?” Dimash asked.

No, everything was not okay. Everything was horribly, catastrophically wrong, and he had nobody but himself to blame.

Otabek stuffed his phone in his pocket and began skating toward the gate.

“Where do you think you’re going? The session’s not over yet. We still have fifteen minutes.”

“Home,” he said. “Sorry, I...just can’t do this right now.” He slipped his skate guards over his blades and headed to the locker room, ignoring his coach calling after him.

The rink wasn’t too far from his apartment, so after changing into his street clothes, Otabek began walking home, pulling out his phone to once again try calling Yuri.

Voicemail. Of course.

He didn’t even bother leaving a message that time, realization dawning that Yuri wasn’t simply ignoring his calls – he had blocked his number. Who knew if he had even listened to the countless voicemails Otabek had left before? He swore under his breath as he ended the call, accidentally knocking into someone’s shoulder.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” the man said.

“Oh, sorry,” Otabek said, his good manners kicking in. “I was distracted.”

The man must not have been a figure skating fan. He didn’t seem to recognize him at all as the “Hero of Kazakhstan”, flipping Otabek off before wrapping his other arm around the attractive woman next to him. Otabek rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop the pang in his heart when he saw the woman slip her hand inside her partner’s back jeans pocket, the man kissing the top of her blonde hair.

He arrived back at his apartment a few minutes later, dropping his duffel bag and jacket on the seat of the armchair before plopping down on the couch. He let out a heavy sigh, pushing back the uppercut of his hair as he leaned back against the cushions and stared up at the ceiling.

What the hell was he supposed to do now that Yuri had effectively cut off all contact from him? Wait until they inevitably saw each other again at Worlds in Stockholm to try to talk to him again? But Worlds were well over a month away, scheduled for the end of March. By then, it would probably be too late.

Not only that, Worlds would be the first time since that night in Vegas that he would come face-to-face with JJ again. JJ had texted him shortly after his last video chat with Yuri, thanking Otabek for indulging his selfishness and promising once again not to tell anyone about their one-night stand, but Otabek had never replied back – pulling the same stunt as Yuri, he realized. At least JJ seemed to have gotten the hint; he hadn’t tried to get in touch with him since.

_Maybe I should_ _t_ _ake a hint_ _, too,_ Otabek thought.

Yuri didn’t want him anymore. It was over.

It was really over.

Otabek pressed his lips together, his eyes watering, but he shook his head, refusing to cry. He didn’t deserve the release, not when he had fucked everything up on his own. Swiping his hand across his cheek, he jumped back up and headed to the bathroom. He had left the rink before taking a shower, and he smelled like it.

He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror as he stripped off his sweatshirt, jeans, and boxer briefs. The tell-tale hickies JJ had left behind on his torso that night had mostly faded, the dark purplish-red marks becoming more of a pale greenish-yellow against his skin – all except for one. Otabek rubbed the area over his left pectoral where the skin had yet to heal, the ugly bruise standing out like a Scarlet Letter upon his chest. He cursed himself for what felt like the thousandth time since that night for succumbing to temptation, fighting back the urge to punch his reflection through the mirror.

Instead, he turned away and stepped inside the shower stall. The scalding hot water hit his skin like razors as Otabek stood underneath the showerhead, the glass enclosure already fogged up with steam. He reached randomly for one of the two half-empty bottles of shower gel sitting in the niche and squeezed a coin-sized dollop in his hand, but paused when a refreshing minty scent reached his nose instead of his usual fragrance.

It was Yuri’s shower gel, the bottle he had accidentally left behind the last time he had visited him in Almaty almost a year ago.

Otabek could no longer hold back. A sob racked through his body as he braced the palm of his clean hand against the tiled wall, tears flowing down his face and mingling with the water that continued to pelt down on him from above. He mindlessly rubbed the gel in his other hand over his chest, but the reminder of Yuri only brought on more tears, his shoulders violently shaking.

“Dammit,” he swore, slapping his hands against the tile. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

Oh, God, how he wished it was possible to turn back time, to go back to that night and return to his hotel room after leaving the banquet like he originally planned instead of checking on JJ. He would give almost anything to wipe the memory of that night out of existence. No matter how sorry he felt for JJ, no matter the latent unrequited feelings from his old teenage crush, no matter the loneliness… Otabek had known it was wrong from the start, yet he still went through with it – and for what? A few minutes of forbidden lust?

It hadn’t been worth it. Nothing was worth the pain of losing Yuri, but there was nothing he could do now except –

No, wait.

His eyes widened, seized by a sudden idea. There was, in fact, still one option left. If Yuri wasn’t willing to talk to him through their usual means, then the answer was obvious. He needed to go to St. Petersburg and see Yuri in person.

Otabek turned off the water and grabbed his towel as he stepped out of the shower, drying himself off as fast as he could and tying the towel around his waist. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him, so he headed to his bedroom across the hall and booted up his laptop while he pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater. He then brought up his browser and looked up flight information. He lucked out in finding a non-stop flight to St. Petersburgthat took off in about an hour. Usually, most of the flights had at least one long layover. If there was no delay in departure, he would land around six o’clock that evening, Yuri’s time.

As expected, the price of a last-minute ticket was exorbitant. Otabek had earmarked some of his prize money from winning Four Continents to go toward upgrading some of his DJ equipment, but he only paused a moment before inputting his credit card information, kissing the funds goodbye. At the moment, nothing was more important than seeing Yuri.

Once the flight was booked and he scheduled an Uber to come pick him up, Otabek began packing. There wasn’t much time before he needed to be at the airport, so he didn’t give much thought to what he packed, throwing clothes at random into his open suitcase, not even bothering to fold or roll them up as he normally did. After grabbing his toiletries from the bathroom, his passport from the locked drawer in his desk, and his heaviest winter coat from the closet,he was ready to go.

Ready to win Yuri back.

* * *

It was somewhere high above the Ural Mountains, Otabek half-listening to some downloaded music on his phone in order to avoid talking to his chatty seatmate, when the adrenaline finally wore off and he started to have second thoughts about impulsively hopping on a plane to Russia to see Yuri. It wasn’t like him. He was supposed to be the cool, but responsible one, the one who thought more with his head than his heart. Doing something like this was more a scheme out of Yuri’s playbook, not his.

He sighed, bumping the back of his head against the headrest. There was a very good chance that this whole thing could blow up in his face. Yuri had made it pretty clear that he had no interest in talking to him. Otabek doubted he would be welcomed with open arms. Showing up on Yuri’s doorstop uninvited would likely make him angrier than he already was. There was no guarantee that Yuri would even agree to hear him out in person either. He could easily slam the door in his face, and then what?

Was this all a huge mistake?

Well, there was nothing Otabek could do about it now. He was already on a plane heading to St. Petersburg; it wasn’t as if he could tell the pilot to turn back around. All he could do was try his best to get through to Yuri and hope for forgiveness.

A finger tapping his left arm distracted Otabek from his melancholic thoughts. He pulled the earbuds out of his ears and turned to his seatmate, a young woman who was probably around his age, give or take a year. “Yes?”

“Sorry for disturbing you,” she said. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking since we took our seats that you looked familiar. Would you happen to be Otabek Altin, the skater?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

She squealed. “I knew it! My best friend is a _huge_ fan. She’s going to die of jealousy when I tell her I met you on the plane. Would you mind autographing something for her? I should have a pen and paper in here somewhere…” She began digging around in her large leather purse. “Ah, here,” she said, handing him a ballpoint pen and what looked to be a crumpled up receipt. “I know it’s not the most valuable thing to sign, but I’m afraid it’s all I have on me at the moment.”

“It’s fine.” He had signed autographs on worse and stranger items during the course of his career. “Who should I make it out to?” he asked, pulling down the food tray in front of him so that he would have a stable surface to write on.

“Aliya.”

He flipped the receipt over and smoothed it out as best he could before scrawling, “Aliya, thank you for your support. - Otabek Altin” on the back, his standard message.

“Thank you so much!” the woman said when he handed the pen and receipt back to her. “I’m sure Aliya will cherish it.”

Otabek politely smiled and was about to plug his earbuds back in his ears, assuming their conversation finished, when she decided to continue. “So, what awaits you in St. Petersburg? I’m going to visit one of my cousins. She’s about to have a baby soon, and I’m so excited! Oh, are you going to see that guy, your boyfriend? The one who’s obsessed with cats? Of course you are, dumb question! Tonight’s a special night, after all. Oh, I wish I had a boyfriend, too! I did until a couple of weeks ago when he decided to dump me on my birthday, the jerk! Anyway, I…”

“Sorry, I’m feeling a little tired,” Otabek interrupted. He didn’t want to be rude, but he wasn’t in the mood for talking with some stranger, especially about love and romance. “I think I’m going to take a nap, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Yes, go ahead,” she said sheepishly. “I’ll try to keep it down.”

“Thanks.”

After flipping up the tray, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes as he pretended to fall asleep.

A few hours later, Otabek was again poked in the shoulder, having apparently fallen asleep for real while planning what he would say to Yuri when he saw him. He startled awake, letting out a soft groan as he sat up and rubbed his right shoulder. Damn, he was going to pay for sleeping in such an awkward position.

“The plane is about to land,” his seatmate informed him. “You need to buckle up.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.”

They landed at St. Petersburg’s Pulkovo Airport about twenty minutes later. Otabek felt kind of bad for brushing off the girl when she had only been trying to be friendly, so before they disembarked, he agreed to let her take a selfie with him, although he made her promise not to post it on any social media. On the off-chance that Yuri might see, he didn’t want him to find out that he was in Russia until he arrived at his apartment. He plastered an awkward smile on his face as the woman held up her phone and snapped a picture of the two of them.

“Thanks!” the woman said after checking to make sure the photo came out clear. It had, so she turned her phone off and placed it back in her purse. “Aliya’s going to be _super_ -jealous now. Oh, by the way, Happy Valentine’s Day! Hope you and your boyfriend have a fun night. Bye!”

Otabek blinked as he watched the woman make her way down the aisle to the exit. _Valentine’s Day?_

Oh, right, today was the fourteenth, wasn’t it? Somehow, the fact it was Valentine’s Day had completely slipped his notice, despite seeing the date several times when he was booking his tickets. While the holiday was still celebrated in Kazakhstan, it had been overtaken in popularity in recent years by the newer National Lovers’ Dayin April. Nobody had made a big deal about it when he had arrived at the rink earlier that morning.

Otabek could not say the same about the airport as he exited customs with his suitcase rolling behind him. He looked around as his fellow passengers greeted their loved ones who had come to pick them up – many people gifting their partners and family members with elaborate flower bouquets, cutesy stuffed animals. and heart-shaped boxes of chocolate – and pushed down feelings of jealousy and bitterness. Of all the days Yuri could have chosen to send his text, it had to be on freaking _Valentine’s Day_? Talk about twisting the knife even deeper. Otabek was well aware Yuri could be petty and vindictive when angry, but that was cruel, even for him.

Dammit. Maybe he _should_ give up on trying to win Yuri back after all – walk straight over to the ticket counter and book the next flight back to Almaty. As long as Aliya’s friend kept her promise and didn’t post that selfie, Yuri would never even know he had flown to St. Petersburg. He could go back home, throw himself into training for Worlds to make up for being so distracted over the past week, and forget he was ever in love with Yuri Nikolayevich Plisetsky.

Otabek turned in the direction of the ticket counter, intending to do just that, but his feet refused to move forward, his brain and his heart sending conflicting messages. As cruel as Yuri’s sense of timing was, he had been even crueler when he slept with JJ. He couldn’t blame Yuri for wanting to pay him back for the hurt he had caused.

Sighing, Otabek forced himself to ignore all the happy couples around him and made his way over to one of the counters to request a taxi, rather than a ticket home. He was the second person in line, so it didn’t take long before he was in the backseat of a cab on his way to Yuri’s apartment, his stomach twisting in knots.

_I should probably get Yura something,_ Otabek thought, his forehead pressing against the glass as the snow-covered scenery of St. Petersburg passed by his window. It _was_ Valentine’s Day, after all. Spotting a florist shop along the way, Otabek asked the cabbie to pull over for a quick stop.

The shop, not surprisingly, had already sold out of most of its stock of the traditional red roses, so Otabek decided to buy him a bouquet of tiger lilies instead. Yuri would probably prefer the vibrant orange blossoms anyway; something as expected as roses didn’t much suit him. The florist wrapped the flowers in cellophane and tied them together with the tiger-print ribbon Otabek had selected, smiling and wishing him a happy Valentine’s Day as he handed over the finished bouquet.

Fifteen minutes later, the cabbie dropped him off again, that time in front of Yuri’s apartment building. Otabek, gripping the bouquet in one hand and the handle of his rolling suitcase in the other, inhaled a deep breath and climbed up the short flight of stairs to the entrance.

He had visited Yuri’s apartment a handful of times before, so he already knew that it was at the far end of the third floor. Coming to a stop in front of the door labeled 314, Otabek hid the bouquet behind his back and raised his other fist in preparation to knock.

_Well, here goes nothing,_ he thought, lightly rapping his knuckles against the wooden door.

A few seconds later, the door swung open, Yuri’s green eyes widening in shock when he saw him standing in the hallway. Almost immediately, he started to close the door again, but Otabek pushed back, his generally stronger upper body strength able to prevent it from closing all the way. “Yura, wait, we need to talk –”

“I don’t want to talk, asshole!”

“Please. I came all this way to –”

“And who the hell asked you to come?” Yuri shouted. “Go away. You’re not welcome here. I never want to see your sorry face again.”

Otabek sighed. He had expected such a reaction from Yuri, of course, but still… “You know that’s not possible. We’re going to have to see each other at Worlds and the Olympics, at the very least. Probably the Grand Prix Final, too.”

“Fine. Then I don’t want to see you outside of competition, where I’m gonna make sure to kick your ass so hard you won’t even be able to walk straight.”

“Yura, please,” he begged. “I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this. I know I hurt you, but –”

“Hurt me?” Yura laughed, yet there was nothing mirthful about the sound, his voice broken and bitter. “You didn’t hurt me, Beka. You fucking broke my heart, and no amount of ‘talking’ about it is going to be able to put it back together again.”

“Yura…”

“It’s over,” he said softly, the fight gone from his voice. “Just go away and leave me the hell alone.”

With that final declaration, Yuri managed to shove the door close, locking him out.

Raising his fist, Otabek started to knock again, but he thought better of it, bringing his hand back down and lightly smacking his forehead against the door instead.

So...that was it. They were officially broken up. As he feared, he had made the trip for nothing, wasting both his time and money. He looked down at the bouquet in his hand, wondering what he was supposed to do with the flowers now. Toss them in the trash?

Sniffling, Otabek swiped his other gloved hand over his eyes. He didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity, realizing he needed to find somewhere to sleep. His trip had been so spontaneous, he hadn’t even thought to make reservations at a hotel. Perhaps a part of him had been too optimistic, hoping that Yuri would invite him to spend the night with him. With it being Valentine’s Day, it was going to be near impossible to find an available room last minute, but Otabek had no choice but to try. He slid his back down the wall beside Yuri’s apartment door, taking a seat on the floor, and pulled out his phone.

As expected, he had no luck. Every hotel, motel, and inn he contacted in St. Petersburg was booked solid for the night, no vacancies to be found. Maybe Mila would be willing to put him up for the night? Otabek wasn’t sure how much she knew about what happened, although if she was still in the dark, she would definitely have questions about why he wasn’t spending the most romantic night of the year with Yuri.

Well, it was worth asking her anyway. Mila was pretty much his last hope if he didn’t want to spend the night trying to sleep in the airport lounge. He had just begun composing a DM to her when the door next to him creaked open.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you still here? I told you to leave.”

Otabek scrambled to his feet, shoving his phone back in his coat pocket and grabbing his suitcase and the bouquet from where he had set it down on the floor. “Sorry, um…” He let out a sigh. “The truth is, I have nowhere to stay tonight. I forgot to make a reservation.”

“Not my problem,” Yuri said, starting to close the door once again.

“Wait, just one night – please. I’ll sleep on the couch, and we don’t even have to talk to each other. You can pretend I’m not even here,” he said. “One night, and I swear I’ll never bother you ever again.”

No matter how much it would kill him.

The door stopped mid-swing, Yuri staring at him through the wide crack. After a long moment of consideration, he rolled his eyes and pulled the door open again. “Fine. You’re outta here by seven, though. Not a minute later. Got it?”

Otabek exhaled in relief. “Yeah, thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Whatever. Don’t make me regret it.”

Stepping inside, Otabek fought back a frown at the state of Yuri’s apartment. Yuri would never be mistaken for a neat freak, but what he saw went beyond his usual messiness. Discarded clothes littered the floor, the sink was filled with unwashed dishes, and it appeared Yuri had forgotten to take out the trash, the garbage can overflowing. Even from a distance, Otabek noticed the distinctive border of an airmail envelope sticking out, clearly unopened. Yuri, following his gaze, quickly walked over to the garbage can and punched the trash downward enough so that he could tie the bag.

“Sorry about the mess,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

“N-No, it’s fine.”

Potya, becoming aware of his presence, jumped down from his perch on the window sill to greet Otabek, purring loudly as he rubbed himself against his jeans.

“Hey, boy,” Otabek said, bending down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. At least someone in St. Petersburg was happy to see him.

“What are those?” Yuri asked when he had finished putting a new bag in the garbage can.

He straightened back up. “Hmm?”

“Those.” Yuri nodded at the bouquet of tiger lilies he forgot he was still holding.

“Oh.” Otabek held them out to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Did you seriously expect an apology and a bouquet of crappy flowers were enough to make me forgive you for cheating on me?”

He still accepted them, though, yanking them out of Otabek’s hand and going back to the kitchen to find a vase for them.

Feeling awkward, Otabek rolled his suitcase over to the side of the couch and began peeling off his coat, gloves, and scarf. As usual, Yuri’s apartment was like a sauna. He hated being cold, absolutely despised it, despite spending several hours every day in a freezing ice rink. Otabek tossed his coat over the back of the couch, then took a seat, a still-purring Potya jumping in his lap.

“So, um, I was going to get some take-out,” Yuri said once he had transferred the bouquet to a crystal vase. “Do you want anything?”

At the mention of food, Otabek’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast that morning. “Uh, yeah.” He stood back up, Potya hopping down to the floor, and reached for his wallet in his back pocket. “Let me –”

“I don’t need your money.”

“Take it anyway. As a thank you for letting me stay here tonight.” Yuri had already done more than enough without needing to feed him, too. He pulled a couple of banknotes out of his wallet and held them out to Yuri. “Is this enough for the two of us?”

Though he hesitated, in the end, Yuri accepted the cash, stuffing it in his pocket with a mumbled, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Chinese okay with you?” he asked.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Yuri returned, carrying a plastic sack filled with take-out boxes. Wordlessly, he set the bag on the small dining table and began unloading the food.

Otabek had spent the time while he was gone tidying up the apartment, another way to thank Yuri for letting him stay the night. He had gathered up all the dirty clothes laying around, loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, and took the garbage down to the dumpster. If Yuri noticed, though, he didn’t acknowledge it.

He walked over to the table, Potya following right on his heels. Ever since his arrival, the fluffy cat had been practically glued to his side, happy to indulge in the pets and scratches he gave him.

“Here, I got you Moo Goo Gai Pan,” Yuri said, holding out an open carton, along with a pair of disposable chopsticks. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Otabek accepted it, surprised that Yuri had thought to get it for him, considering the circumstances.

He shrugged, refusing to meet Otabek’s eyes as he grabbed a box of sweet-and-sour chicken for himself. “You paid for it.”

“I know. I still appreciate it.”

Yuri pulled out a chair and took a seat. Otabek wasn’t sure if he was welcomed at the table or not, but after a few awkward moments of him standing there, trying to decide where to sit, Yuri kicked the chair opposite him out from underneath the table. Taking it as an invitation, Otabek sat down as well and broke apart his chopsticks.

The silence between them was heavy as they ate, Yuri still doing his best to look everywhere but across the table at Otabek. Otabek resisted the urge to sigh. After all, he had given Yuri permission to pretend he wasn’t there. He had no right to complain about being given the silent treatment, even though there was still so much he wanted to say to Yuri…

“Who was it?”

Startled by the sudden sound of Yuri’s voice, breaking the suffocating quiet, Otabek dropped the piece of mushroom he’d been trying to pick up with his chopsticks and glanced up from his half-eaten carton. “What?”

“Who was it that you fucked in Vegas?” Yuri asked again, finally meeting Otabek’s gaze.

“It was…” That time, it was he who looked away, setting his food down on the table. “It was, um, nobody important,” Otabek mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

He immediately realized it was the wrong answer when Yuri started glaring at him. “You betrayed me for ‘nobody important’?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I –”

Yuri scoffed. “So, what? You were so desperate and horny for sex that you picked up some random whore on the corner? You were in Vegas, right? The place was probably crawling with hookers.”

Otabek frowned. “He wasn’t a hooker, Yura. You know me better than that.”

“Well, I thought I did,” he said in a softer voice, poking at his noodles with his chopsticks. Otabek thought he had dropped the subject until Yuri spoke again a few moments later. “Another skater?”

He was unable to stop his breath from hitching at the back of his throat, confirming Yuri’s suspicions.

“Who? Seung-Gil? Leo?” Looking down at the remainder of their meal on the table, Yuri grimaced. “Guang-Hong?”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I changed my mind,” he snapped, slamming down his carton. “I want to know. Who the fuck was it, Beka?”

“What does it matter who it was? I cheated; _I’m_ the one to blame, not him,” Otabek said, bringing his hand to his chest. “I’m willing to take full responsibility for what happened, so I’m not going to torture you more by giving you all the dirty details.”

“Fuck.” Yuri’s eyes widened. “It was that asshole, wasn’t it? JJ Fucking Leroy? I _knew_ you always had a thing for him.”

“Yura, please –”

“Oh, my god, it was! Out of all the people – He’s fucking _married,_ Beka.”

Otabek sighed, realizing there was no point in trying to deny it any longer. “They’re separated, actually. They’re getting a divorce,” he revealed, breaking the promise he had made to Phichit at the banquet to keep the news under wraps. JJ had yet to publicly confirm his split with Isabella, but he didn’t want Yuri to think even worse of him than he already did.

“W-What?” Yuri visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his neck. “Because of your – How long as this been going on?”

“No! It was just the one time, I swear. He had already moved out of their place by Four Continents.”

Yuri rubbed at his forehead, elbow on the table as he took everything in. “Were you drinking?” It might have been Otabek’s imagination, but he sounded almost hopeful, like he was looking for an excuse to forgive him. “That morning, when I called, you said –”

“JJ was, some,” Otabek admitted. “I had a few sips...but neither of us was drunk.” As much as he wished he could pass it off as a drunken mistake.

“Then why?” Yuri asked, straightening his posture. “Why JJ? Why anyone else?” He shook his head. “I...I don’t understand. Were you mad at me about something? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t anything you did.” Otabek reached across the table for Yuri’s hand, but at the last second, he thought better of it, curling his fingers and sliding back his arm. “I...was just lonely. JJ was, too. That’s why…” He squeezed his eyes shut. During his flight, he had plenty of time to plan what he wanted to say to Yuri, but now that the moment had come, the words evaded him, nothing seeming quite right. “It’s not an excuse, I know, but –”

“Damn right, it’s not an excuse!” The legs of Yuri’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose to his feet. “You don’t think I’ve been lonely, too?” he shouted, throwing his chopsticks down on the table with enough force that one of them broke in half. “I hate that we never see each other, that we never touch each other, but I loved you enough to at least keep it in my pants.” He shook his head, a look of absolute disgust distorting his beautiful face as he looked down at Otabek. “I guess you just didn’t feel the same about me.”

Without giving Otabek the opportunity to respond, Yuri stalked off to his bedroom, swiping the vase of tiger lilies off the kitchen island along the way. The glass shattered upon impact with the floor, spooking poor Potya. Otabek jumped up and called out his name, but Yuri didn’t even look back, slamming the door shut behind him so hard that it rattled a framed photograph on the wall in the hallway.

Sighing, Otabek’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he kneeled down to pick up some of the bigger pieces of broken glass. “I really fucked things up, didn’t I?” he asked Potya, who came over to see what he was doing.

The cat meowed, Otabek letting out a bitter chuckle as he petted Potya’s head with his free hand.

“Yeah, I thought so.”


	2. Part Two

A couple of hours later, Otabek prepared the couch to go to sleep. He had come out of the bathroom after taking a shower to find a pillow and a leopard-print blanket dropped haphazardly on the floor in front of Yuri’s bedroom door for him to use. Beyond that, Yuri had remained sequestered in his room since dinner, ignoring Otabek for the rest of the evening.

“Hey, Yura? I’m going to bed now,” Otabek said softly, knocking on his door. “Thanks for the pillow and blanket. Good night.”

It came as no surprise when Yuri said nothing back.

With a weary sigh, Otabek flipped off the lights in the living room, then laid down on the couch,fluffing the pillow andpulling the blanket up to his neck. The blanket must have been a spare from storage. Instead of Yuri’s familiar scent, it smelled faintly of lavender detergent.

Though the couch wasn’t very comfortable, it would do; Otabek expected a mostly sleepless night anyway. He set the alarm on his phone for six, planning to leave for the airport before Yuri’s seven a.m. deadline, and placed the phone on the coffee table. He had already booked a seat on the earliest flight back to Almaty.

After tossing and turning for over an hour, trying to find the least uncomfortable position, Otabek eventually managed to fall into a very light sleep. He was awakened a short time later, however, by the sound of Yuri’s bedroom door creaking open.

_Probably just going to the bathroom to brush his teeth or something,_ Otabek thought, one eye cracked open just wide enough to see Yuri’s blurry shadow sneaking out of the room. As there was only one bathroom in the apartment for guests to share, he didn’t have an en-suite attached to his room.

Indeed, Yuri did enter the bathroom, light briefly spilling into the hallway before he closed the door behind him. Otabek shut his eyes once again and pretended to be asleep until he felt a familiar weight on top of him, one that was much heavier than Potya, who had been curled up on the armchair the last time he checked.

“Yura? What the –”

“Shut up,” Yuri said.

Otabek couldn’t see much in the darkness, but with what little light was available from the windows, he could make out Yuri reaching for the bottom hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside. His brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you –”

“I said, shut up.”

“But –”

“Do you want to fuck me or not, jackass?”

“Yura, stop.” Otabek pulled himself into a half-sitting position and reached over to turn on a nearby lamp, Yuri swearing at the sudden brightness as he held a hand up to his face. “What are you doing?” he asked again, staring up at his former boyfriend.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I thought you were mad at me.” _I thought you hated me,_ Otabek added silently to himself.

“I am. But right now, I’m horny as fuck, and you happen to be a convenient dick. So, are you gonna fuck me or not?”

“Yura, I don’t think –”

“God, knock it off with the fuckin’ nice guy act! We both know that’s not who you are.”

The words hurt more than expected.Otabek had thought he was being a “nice guy” when he had knocked on the door to JJ’s hotel room that night, concerned when JJ hadn’t shown up at the banquet after his poor results at the competition. He’d only meant to check up on him, make sure JJ was okay. Instead, he had ended up betraying the man he loved, breaking Yuri’s heart.

No, Yuri was right. He wasn’t a nice guy. Maybe he never had been.

“Fine!” Yuri huffed when Otabek failed to say anything, climbing off of him. “If you’re not interested, I’ll just find someone on Grindr. I’m sure there must be some hot guy out there looking for a booty call.”

“No, don’t.” Otabek jumped up, grabbing Yuri by the wrist. He knew he had no right to object, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Yuri hooking up with some random stranger he met through an app.

Not today, at least. Not on Valentine’s Day.

“Let me go, asshole!” Yuri said, fighting against his hold. “You’re not my boyfriend anymore. It’s none of your business who I fuck.”

“You wanna fuck?” Otabek let go of his grip on Yuri’s arm. “Then, fine. Let’s do it,” he growled. He wasn’t particularly in the mood, but if that’s what it took to stop Yuri from looking elsewhere... He began untying the drawstring of his pajama bottoms, Yuri looking on in a bit of shock. “What are you waiting for? Take off your pants.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. “Not here. The bedroom.”

“Fine, wherever. Let’s go.”

* * *

Otabek followed Yuri to his bedroom down the hall. The room was in even worse of a state than the living area had been, the beige carpet barely visible underneath the sea of magazines, dirty clothes, and empty cans strewn about the floor. Yuri kicked some of the junk aside, clearing a pathway to the unmade bed, then turned back around to face Otabek, who was still standing in the doorway.

“Well? Are we going to do this or not?”

Not exactly an invitation for a romantic Valentine’s Day celebration.

“Uh, yeah,” Otabek said, reaching for the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his head. He tossed the shirt on the floor and walked over to where Yuri stood waiting.

Yuri’s eyes immediately dropped to the hickie on his chest that refused to fade, his jaw tensing at the reminder of his betrayal.

Inhaling a deep breath, Otabek held his head high. It might have been better to have kept his shirt on in hindsight, but it had been bound to come off sooner or later anyway. Might as well get the awkwardness over from the start. Hesitantly, he placed his hands on Yuri’s hips and moved to kiss him, only to get a mouthful of hair in his mouth as Yuri turned his face to the side at the last moment, placing a palm against Otabek’s chest.

“No,” Yuri said. “No kisses on the mouth. This is just sex. That’s all.”

Right. He was nothing more than a “convenient dick” as far as Yuri was concerned, a toy for him to play with at his pleasure. As if to prove it, Yuri’s hand drifted downward, firmly cupping Otabek’s emerging erection through his flannel pajama pants. Otabek let out a soft gasp, Yuri bringing his mouth right next to his ear.

“Did you let that bastard suck on this dick?” Yuri asked, his voice low as he began stroking Otabek’s length. “Did you shove it up his ass? Or did you let him fuck you instead?”

“Do you really want to know?” Otabek asked hoarsely. He saw little benefit in Yuri wanting to know the explicit details of their tryst, but he was through keeping secrets. If Yuri wanted to keep torturing himself so badly, fine. He would tell him whatever he wanted to know, confess all his sins with no hope of forgiveness.

He could be petty, too.

Fortunately, Yuri came to his senses, releasing his grip on Otabek’s half-hard cock. “N-No, never mind.”

His gaze once again returned to the hickie on Otabek’s chest, Yuri pressing a finger against the bruise. Physically, it didn’t hurt much, but Otabek reached for Yuri’s hand, grasping his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he couldn’t resist saying one more time, the apology falling upon deaf ears.

Yuri instead turned hisattention to Otabek’s neck, moving closer as he brought his lips to the sensitive skin there. Mouth kisses were out, but apparently kisses on other parts of the body were fair game. An involuntary moan escaped from Otabek’s mouth, his hands finding their way back to Yuri’s narrow hips.

He wasn’t sure who led who, but they somehow made it onto the bed, their legs tangled together as they continued exploring each other’s bodies with their hands and mouths. Respectful of his wishes, Otabek was careful to avoid the temptation of Yuri’s lips, trailing kisses along his shoulder, neck, and jawline instead. Meanwhile, Yuri’s hand had disappeared inside Otabek’s pants, resuming his stroking from before.

“Yura…” Otabek breathed, his arousal coming on strong, surprising even him in its voracity. If Yuri wasn’t careful, he was liable tocome before they even reached the main event.

Yuri, however, recognized the signs that he was close and withdrew his hand before the point of no return. He then rolled over on his back, allowing Otabek to take more control of the pace.

Otabek moved downward, landing kisses on Yuri’s mostly-hairless chest. His nipples weren’t particularly sensitive, so he didn’t bother to pay much attention to them beyond giving them a couple flicks of his tongue before licking a line down to his stomach, toned and flat. Yuri gasped when Otabek reached his navel, swirling his tongue around the inside of his belly-button like he knew Yuri enjoyed.

His fingers found the waistband of Yuri’s pajama bottoms. Yuri instinctively raised his hips, and Otabek tugged down both his pants and underwear, pulling them off. His cock was already at full erection, a bit of pre-cum leaking at the tip. Otabek licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft, circling the head a couple of times with his tongue when he reached the end, then took Yuri into his mouth.

At that point, Yuri would usually grab him by the hairs of his uppercut and begin swearing up a storm. He was far from being shy when it came to being vocal in bed, letting Otabek know exactly what he wanted and what he liked, yet aside from some heavy breathing and the occasional soft moan, Yuri remained uncharacteristically silent, even when he began playing with his balls.

Since that didn’t seem to be doing anything for him, Otabek stopped what he was doing and resumed kissing Yuri’s body, grinding against him through the fabric of his pants. Yuri responded a little better to that, but he was still far too quiet compared to his usual self, leaving Otabek at a loss. It came almost as a relief when Yuri flipped him over on his back, deciding to take the dominant position.

Straddling Otabek’s hips, the tip of his cock dripping a little pre-cum on his stomach, Yuri leaned forward and rubbed a hand over his chest. Unlike Yuri, Otabek had always been more sensitive to nipple play. He muttereda swear as Yuri lightly circled his right nipple with his thumb, his warm tongue mirroring the motion on the opposite nipple.

“Yura…”

Otabek gasped when Yuri abruptly switched things up, pinching his nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. It didn’t hurt that much, but Yuri was being rougher than usual, his lips moving upward to latch onto Otabek’s neck, sucking the area right over his pulse point.

It was...kind of hot, actually. Otabek let out a low moan, turning his head so that Yuri had better access, and wrapped his arms behind Yuri’s back to pull him closer.

After a while, though, the sucking became more painful than erotic, almost as if Yuri intended to brand him permanently. “S-Stop,” Otabek said, no longer enjoying it.

Yuri immediately ceased what he was doing, his eyes widening as he pulled his mouth away from Otabek’s neck and sat back up. He brought a hand to his lips, but didn’t apologize, guiltily glancing away and climbing off of Otabek.

“Prep me,” he ordered, waving his hand in the direction of the nightstand, where Otabek knew from previous experience was where Yuri kept his lube and toys.

Yuri positioned himself on his hands and knees, bare ass in the air, while Otabek dug around the messy drawer for a bottle of lube, coming across a couple of loose condom packets while he searched. He and Yuri had stopped using them after they had both been tested shortly after they started sleeping together and were declared clean, yet Otabek grabbed one of the foil packets and placed it on top of the nightstand for later. Though he had used a condom with JJ, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“What’s taking so long?” Yuri asked, voice bordering on a whine. “Haven’t you found it yet?”

“Sorry.” The half-empty tube was hidden near the back of the drawer. Otabek pulled it out and flicked open the cap, coating a couple of his fingers with the slick lube as he turned his attention back to Yuri.

It didn’t take long to stretch Yuri’s hole, generously spreading the lube. When he finished, Otabek wiped his fingers on one of the manyT-shirts laying around on the floor, then pulled down his pants and boxer briefs and swiped the condom packet from the nightstand.

At the sound of the foil packaging tearing, Yuri flipped over on his back, propping himself up on his elbows. “What are you doing? You don’t need to bother –”

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Otabek interrupted, Yuri’s mouth forming a small “o” at the reminder.”

“Yeah. Right.” He fell back against the mattress, looking up at the light fixture above the bed. “Thanks, I guess.”

Otabek frowned as he rolled the condom on his cock. Despite it being his idea, Yuri didn’t seem all that interested in what they were doing. He wasn’t enjoying it that much himself, to be truthful. No surprise, movies and TV had lied once again. Break-up sex always seemed like the hottest thing ever on-screen, the actors barely managing to rip off each other’s clothes before lust overcame them, but the reality was much more confusing and awkward.They were merely going through the motions at this point, no real passion or desire between them at all.

It wasn’t how he wanted their last time to go.

“Are you _sure_ you still want to do this? We can always stop if you’re not –”

“Oh, for the love of – Less talking, more fucking,” Yuri said with a roll of his eyes. He lifted his knees up to his chest and spread his legs apart as far as humanly possible – which, as one of the most flexible people Otabek had ever met, was quite a lot – his hands grabbing the back of his thighs to keep them in place. “Come on, what are you waiting for? Fuck me.”

So, they were really going to do this, huh? Sighing, Otabek poured a little more lube on his fingers and spread it over the length of the condom before situating himself in between Yuri’s spread legs. Since it had been a while for Yuri, he was careful not to rush things, going slow as he lined the head of his cock with Yuri’s hole and pushed through. Yuri drew in a sharp breath at the initial sensation, but he didn’t appear to be in any pain, letting out a soft moan as Otabek gently continued easing himself inside.

He had almost forgotten how good it felt to bury himself in Yuri, to revel in his tightness and warmth. Otabek tried his best to commit it all to memory, painfully aware it would be the last time.

“Okay?” he asked when he had bottomed out, shifting his position so that he was leaning over Yuri, his hands on either side of Yuri’s head to support his weight.

Beneath him, Yuri nodded, their eyes meeting as he stared upwards. Gone was thehardness and anger that had clouded Yuri’s beautiful green eyes from the moment he had arrived, and Otabek could almost believe that things were back to normal between them, that they were still happy and in love. All too soon, however, the spell was broken, Yuri turning his head to the side when he realized his mistake. He released his hold on his legs, his feet dropping to the mattress, and his arms fell to lay motionless at his sides, not even deigning to touch Otabek.

“Dammit, Yura!” Otabek’s fingers clenched at the tiger-print sheet, tired of the mixed messages Yuri kept sending him. “Do you actually want to do this or not? Stop messing with my head and fuckin’ tell –”

The rest of his sentence was swallowed as Yuri’s lips crushed against his, breaking his own rule. Taken by surprise at first, Otabek froze, but it didn’t take long before he was kissing Yuri back, Yuri’s arms wrapping around his back as he began rocking against him.

_This_ was more like the Yuri he knew, the Yuri he loved. The passion that they had both been trying to suppress at last overcame them, and for a moment, nothing else seemed to matter. JJ, the break-up… Otabek forgot it all as he lost himself in Yuri’s warmth...

….until he noticed a salty taste had begun to coat Yuri’s lips.

He paused mid-thrust, concerned when he saw that tears were leaking from the corner of Yuri’s eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“Yura, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yuri said, swiping his arm over his eyes and turning his head to the side. “Why are you stopping? Keep going.”

Otabek pulled out instead, sitting back on his knees and slipping off the mostly-unused condom.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yuri propped himself on his elbows, glaring at Otabek with watery eyes. “I told you –”

“I’m done,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not doing this. Not when you’re clearly not enjoying it.”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Sitting back up, he began hitting Otabek’s chest with his fists. “I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I ha–” With one final, half-hearted punch, he let out a broken sob, the fight going out of him as he leaned forward against Otabek’s shoulder.

“Oh, Yura…”

Otabek moved to lay down beside Yuri, gently gathering him in his arms. To his surprise, Yuri made no attempt at resistance, not even a token protest. He buried his face in Otabek’s shoulder, Otabek feeling around for the blanket behind him. He pulled the blanket over their naked bodies and held Yuri closer, silently comforting him as he continued to cry.

* * *

Otabek had known he had hurt Yuri.

He didn’t think he had realized how much until Yuri was crying in his arms, every sob like a knife piercing his heart. God, he really had been an idiot to think a few “I’m sorry”s and some flowers would be enough to make things right between them again, just like Yuri said.Rubbing soothing circles on Yuri’s back, Otabek closed his eyes and wished he could somehow magically take away all his pain and heartache, but of course that wasn’t possible.

The tears kept flowing, seemingly never-ending. Knowing Yuri, he had probably bottled everything up inside, his anger and sadness continuing to build until the dam finally burst. After a while, though, his sobs eventually subsided, Yuri sniffling as he lifted up his head.

“Um, sorry,” he said, Otabek bringing a hand to the side of his face. Yuri momentarily froze, but then he sighed, relaxing into the touch as Otabek brushed away a final wayward tear with his thumb. “Why can’t I hate you?” Yuri asked in a soft voice. “This would be so much easier if I did, if I didn’t still lo–” He lowered his gaze. “I _should_ hate you, after what you did, so why…?”

“I’m sorry, Yura. I’m so, so sorry.” Again, it wasn’t enough, but Otabek didn’t know what else to say, no words existing in any of the three languages he fluently spoke to convey the depth of his remorse.

Yuri sighed. “I know you are, but…”

“Is there… I mean, I know there isn’t, but is there something I can do, something I can say…?” Otabek swallowed, his own eyes beginning to well with unshed tears. “I don’t want to lose you, Yura,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re everything to me. I know I don’t deserve a second chance – I know, but I swear to you it will never happen again.”

Yuri pulled his hand away and flipped over on his other side, his back turned toward Otabek. “I _want_ to believe that. I do. I just…”

“Tell me what I can do to make you trust me again. I’ll do anything, just say the word.”

A long pause followed. Otabek longed to scoot closer to Yuri, to spoon against his backside as he often did on the rare opportunities they had to share a bed, but he remained where he was, uncertain if Yuri would welcome it, and waited for him to respond.

“Move to St. Petersburg.”

He said the demand so softly that Otabek wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. He propped himself on his elbow, looking down at Yuri. “What?”

Yuri rolled overon his back, staring up at the ceiling. “This long-distance thing isn’t working, Beka,” he said. “Even if I did decide to forgive you and take you back, at the back of my mind, I think I’m always going to wonder if you’re fucking someone else. At least if we lived in the same city, I wouldn’t have to be so damn suspicious all the time.”

“Yura, I…”

“And the truth is, I...um...I’ve been tempted, too,” he continued, not giving Otabek the chance to respond. “You know, to cheat?” He played with a loose strand of thread sticking up from the blanket, twirling it around his finger. “Every once in a while, I’ll go out clubbing with Mila and dance with a hot guy… It never goes beyond that, I swear!” Yuri looked up at Otabek, eyes wide. “It’s just dancing. That’s all we ever do, but sometimes, um, I’ll think about it. Think about bringing him home with me.”

Otabek inhaled, lips pressed together. He had no right to judge, of course, since he had done more than simply “think” about it, but he would be lying if he said the thought of Yuri grinding against some stranger in a dark club, contemplating taking him to bed, didn’t hurt.

“I’m tired of the loneliness,” Yuri said, flipping over once again to face Otabek. “If we’re gonna give this thing another shot, then let’s fucking _be_ together. No more seeing each other only through technology. It’s not working, so just stay here. Don’t go back.”

If only it was that simple. Otabek _wanted_ to be with Yuri, he did. Being able to see him whenever he wanted – kiss him, touch him… Almost nothing would make him happier. Yet Almaty was his _home_. He’d spent years hopping from country to country, coach to coach, rarely seeing his family and hometown friends in his quest to become the best skater in the world and make Kazakhstan proud. He didn’t regret it, but when Dimash had decided to resume coaching again full-time after taking a break to focus on raising a family, Otabek had jumped at the chance to return to his beloved homeland to train. Was he really willing to give that up again, especially when Dimash had been so instrumental in him finally breaking through to the top echelon of men’s skating?

That wasn’t even taking into account all the logistical considerations involved in moving to a new country...

“Worlds are little more than a month away,” Otabek reminded Yuri. “I can’t snap my fingers and suddenly decide to move to Russia. I’ll need to apply for a –”

“After Worlds, then.”

“What about a coach? If I move here, I’ll need a new one.”

As much as he wished he could convince Dimash to move with him, Otabek highly doubted he would be willing to uproot his familyfor the sake of one student, no matter how successful that student happened to be. Besides, he was needed in Kazakhstan to help train the upcoming generation of skaters, inspired by Otabek’s success. There were already a couple of novices who skated at his rink that showed real promise.

“I’ll talk to Yakov. He’s going to have an opening soon anyway. Dima’sstill experiencing vertigo when he spins,” Yuri said, referring to Dmitri Menshov, a young senior who had his promising debut season cut short by a terrible concussion he experienced at practice during Skate Canada. “They haven’t made the official announcement yet because he hasn’t finished filling out all the paperwork, but he’s definitely retiring at the end of the season.”

Remembering the training camp where he first met Yuri and the embarrassment he had felt when Coach Feltsman decided he wasn’t good enough to train with the juniors even though he had been technically old enough to compete as one, Otabek frowned. “You really think he would take me on as a student? You know he prefers skaters with a balletic background like yours.”

“Come on, you’re a three-time World bronze medalist and the reigning Four Continents champion. He would be a world-class idiot not to want to train someone as talented and hard-working as you.”

Otabek smiled – _really_ smiled – for the first time in what felt like ages. “You really believe that?”

“Yeah.” Yuri smiled as well, propping himself up as he caressed Otabek’s cheek. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask. I do. I know how much it meant to you, to be able to move back home and train in Almaty, but…” The grin slipped from his lips, Yuri lowering his hand and letting out a sigh. “Never mind. Just forget about it.”

He tossed the blanket aside and got out of bed, finding his discarded pajama pants on the floor.

“Yura?”

“It was a dumb idea, anyway,” Yuri said, pulling the pants up his legs. “I can’t ask you to make such a huge sacrifice.”

Otabek climbed out of bed as well and pulled on his boxer-briefs. He walked over to Yuri, hesitating for only a moment before gently placing his hands on Yuri’s upper arms. “Yura, I meant what I said. If you want me to move to St. Petersburg once the season’s over, then I will.”

“But…” Yuri looked up. “You love Kazakhstan. It’s your home.”

“I love you more.” Yes, he would be sad to leave Almaty once again, but he had done it plenty of times before and survived. He didn’t need to live in Kazakhstan to be proud of his heritage, to represent his country with pride. A life without Yuri, though… “You’re right. What we were doing before _wasn’t_ working, as much as we tried. I want to be with you, too – really _be_ with you, not just see you through a screen.”

“Still…”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t be able to visit every once in a while, on holidays or during the off-season.” Otabek’s fingers slid down Yuri’s arms, grasping both of his hands and giving them a soft squeeze. “And, you know, maybe after we finish our competitive careers, we can move together to Almaty?” he suggested.

Yuri’s eyes widened. “You’re thinking that far ahead?”

“Yeah,” Otabek said. He started to grin, but seeing the shocked look on Yuri’s face, he wondered if he had perhaps said too much. After all, Yuri had yet to even agree to officially take him back. It was probably too soon to think about something that far in the future. “Yura?”

“B-But what if it doesn’t work out? What if you cheat on me again, or –”

“That’s _not_ gonna happen.”

“Well, what if I cheat on you?” Yuri shot back. “Or, I don’t know… We get bored of each other? Or start to fight a lot?” He pulled his hands away from Otabek’s, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’m warning you, I’m not exactly the easiest person to be around. What if the only reason we _did_ work is because we never saw each other, so you never had the chance to realize that I’m kind of a jerk sometimes?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the corners of Otabek’s mouth twitched into a small, affectionate smile. “Yura, that’s hardly a state secret.”

“Hey! You’re not sup–”

“Look, I know it’s a risk.” Otabek sat back down on the edge of the bed. “But love is always a risk, I think. Not every couple gets their happy ending. I broke your trust in the worst possible way. Even if I did move here, it’s possible that I’ll never fully be able to regain it. I get that, but I want to at least try. The question is, do you?”

Yuri walked over to the bed, though he remained standing, Otabek reaching once again for his hands and gently pulling him closer in between his legs. “Beka, I…”

“We can take things as slow as you want. It’s probably best that I get my own place, anyway, at least for the first few months. There’s no rush to move in together until you feel ready to trust me again. And what I said about moving to Almaty in the future… I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was pressuring you. I know a lot can change before we reach that point. We don’t need to make any big decisions like that right now. It was just a dream I’ve always had, you and me living together in Kazakhstan, but… Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you string so many sentences together in one conversation,” Yuri said, somehow laughing and crying at the same time. He used the palms of his hands to wipe away the tears that were again rolling down his cheeks. “Dammit, I told myself I wouldn’t let you do this to me. You weren’t supposed to get to me again. I thought...”

“Yura?”

“I want to try, too,” he confessed once he managed to compose himself. “I want to take that risk.”

Otabek could hardly believe his ears. He fought the urge to pinch himself, afraid to find out that he was only dreaming. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Yuri’s face broke into a smile as Otabek reached up to wipe away the remnants of his tears. “If you’re willing to move to St. Petersburg, then let’s do it.”

His heart bursting with happiness and gratitude, Otabek stood back up and embraced Yuri, holding him tight. “Thank you,” he said into Yuri’s hair, voice cracking as he struggled to hold back his own tears. “Thank you for giving me a second chance. I know I don’t deserve it, but I promise I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

“You better not.” Yuri’s voice was muffled, his face buried in Otabek’s shoulder. “I don’t believe in third chances. If you ever cheat on me again…”

The rest of his threat went unspoken, the words unnecessary.

“I won’t,” Otabek swore. “You’re the only one that I want.”

“Good.”

Yuri lifted his chin, looking up at Otabek. His eyes were rimmed with red, his skin blotchy from all the crying he had done earlier. He sniffled, rubbing a finger underneath his nose. “God, I must look like a fucking mess.”

“Yeah, you kinda do,” Otabek said, Yuri retaliating with a playful swat on the arm.

“Jerk! You’re the one who did this to me.”

“But you’re a beautiful mess,” he assured him, cupping Yuri’s face in between his hands and brushing his mouth against Yuri’s lips in a soft, questioning kiss.

Yuri answered back with a kiss of his own, placing his hands on Otabek’s hips and drawing him closer. Otabek took that as an invitation to slip his tongue inside Yuri’s slightly parted lips, a low moan escaping as Yuri closed his eyes. The kiss grew more and more passionate, but just as Otabek was about to guide him back on the bed to resume where they had left off earlier, Yuri pulled away, gently pushing him back.

“Could we not?” he asked, glancing to the side. “I know I wanted to earlier, but, um, I don’t think I’m ready yet. I’m still really mad at you.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course… That makes sense.”

Otabek lowered his hands, silently cursing his eagerness. It wasn’t as if he expected Yuri to flip a switch and suddenly be okay with everything again, to act like things were back to normal between them when the wounds had only begun to heal. The fact that Yuri was even willing to try to forgive him was more than enough – more than he deserved, quite frankly. Though it wasn’t exactly how he had wanted Valentine’s Day to end, Otabek began gathering his clothes from the floor.

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said, pulling on his pajama pants. “I’m sure you have an early practice in the morning.”

“Wait.”

Otabek turned around at the door. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to fuck,” Yuri said, “but, uh, you can sleep in here, if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Yuri tucked a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “I mean, that couch can’t be very comfortable, and there’s plenty of room in my bed for the both of us...”

“I’d like that. Thanks.”

Otabek was careful to keep a respectful distance between them as he joined Yuri in bed, laying down only a few inches away from the edge of the mattress. A few minutes after Yuri turned off his bedside lamp, however, he had bridged the gap, curling up against Otabek’s side.

“You’re warm,” Yuri said before Otabek could even comment. “You’re like my own personal space heater.”

Otabek stifled a chuckle. Sometimes Yuri really was like a cat. He shifted his position so that his arm was wrapped around Yuri’s back, Yuri’s head resting on his shoulder. He had missed this, possibly even more than the sex. Closing his eyes, he began drifting to sleep to the sound of Yuri’s soft breathing beside him, finding the bed much more comfortable than the couch.

“Hey, Beka?”

“Hmm?” He kept his eyes closed, too tired to open them again.

“You can stay a couple more days, right?” Yuri asked, landing a kiss on Otabek’s chest.

He probably shouldn’t. The responsible side of him reminded Otabek that Worlds were only five short weeks away. He really did need to return to Almaty and get back to training if he wanted to have any hope of beating Yuri for the title. He also owed Dimash an apology, both for the way he had been acting the past week during practice and for running off to St. Petersburg without telling him.

But the hell with it. Otabek didn’t feel like being responsible. He’d work extra hard when he got back to make up for the lost time.

For now, he only wanted one more day with the man he loved.

“Yeah, I can stay at least another night,” he decided, blindly kissing the top of Yuri’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: “Yuri!! On Ice” doesn’t belong to me.
> 
> AUTHOR’S NOTES: Happy White Day, and I hope you enjoyed the story! 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr! My username is kaleidodreams.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: “Yuri!!! On Ice” doesn’t belong to me.
> 
> AUTHOR’S NOTES: Happy Valentine’s Day! I’d hope to get the entire story finished by today, but things didn’t quite work out that way. I’m fairly close to finished with the second and final part, though, and plan to post that on White Day, March 14th. I hope you look forward to it!
> 
> BTW, National Lovers’ Day is a real Kazakh holiday, celebrating the love story of Kozy Korpesh and Bayan Sulu, characters of a well-known epic poem. It was created in 2011 as an alternative to Valentine’s Day.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr! My username is kaleidodreams.


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